Canadian Whiskey
by TheShadowChangeling
Summary: just a littel one-shot that came from the song by brad paisley, whiskey lullaby. so yes there will be character death. hope you like it.


**Canadian Whiskey**

**hey it's changeling here. this is just a litte one shot i came up with thanks to the song whiskey lullaby. disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR CREATOR. AND SONG BELONGS TO BRAD PAISLEY! just changed a few words. oh btw i am working on birthday blues. just working on the next chapter and my writing.****  
**  
_"He put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette._

_He broke his heart, he spent his whole life tryin' to forget._

_We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time,_

_but he never could get drunk enough to get him off his mind_

_Until the night."_

His hand trembled as he held the glock to his temple. So many thoughts running through his mind. _"why? What did i do wrong?"_ Were two of many and yet there were no answers. He has done all he could. He loved the prussian with all his canadian heart could handle and yet it wasn't enough. He found them in their bed in his house. They were in a position that left nothing to the imagination. He left that night and ran until he couldn't anymore. He stopped at the local bar to drink away his pain, but it wasn't enough. After many months here he sat in some nasty ass motel with his service weapon in his hand pointed to his temple. He took one last swig of his favorite canadian whiskey and...

_"He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger_

_And finally drank away his memory_

_Life is short, but this time it was bigger_

_Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_

_We found him with his face down in the pillow_

_With a note that said, 'I'll love him till I die.'_

_And when we buried him beneath the willow_

_The angels sang a whiskey lullaby"_

Alfred was getting worried. He hasn't heard from Mattie in a few days. He left multiple messages on his brother's cell phone. After the eighth day of hearing nothing he decided to go and check on his brother. Once he reached matthew's house he banged on the door, no answer. He dug around in his pockets and produced the spair key mattie had given him a year or so ago. With a twist and a flick alfred had the door open. "Matthew! Mattie!" alfred walked to the livingroom, nothing. He checked the kitchen, still nothing. And matthew was normally cooking pancakes at this time. And what was eary enough, the kitchen looked like it hadn't been used in days. Getting worried he headed upstairs to check and see if mattie was in the bedroom. Once alfred reached mattie's bedroom he threw the door open only to scream. There was his brother's lover with their cousin. None other than Francis Bonnefrey himself. One of the members of the bad touch trio. And one of Gilbert's best friends. After much yelling and screaming alfred left the house and went in search of matthew. He checked each and every parking lot he passed. Until he got to the last and saw matthew's car. Beginning to get frantic he jumped out of his car and ran into the motel's office. He got the spair key from the attendent and ran to his brother's room. With a trembleing hand he opend the door and flicked on the lights. He screamed. It was a couple of days later when they finally had the service. It was beautiful. Matthew would have loved it. They were in the field they had played in as children. Matthew had a favorite willow tree that was right in the middle of the field. That's where alfred told them to burry him. Everyone who knew and loved matthew were there. Includeing the very ones who betrayed him. Everyone was crying, no one more that their treacherous cousin Francis. Gilbert just stood there stoically, paler than usual. And he was the last to leave the funeral.

_"The rumors flew but nobody knew how much he blamed himself_

_For years and years he tried to hide the whiskey on his breath_

_He finally drank his pain away a little at a time_

_But he never could get drunk enough to get him off his mind_

_Until the night"_

He swigged the last of the german beer in his fridge. Drunk off his ass and sitting in a chair staring at the only picture he had of his prescious birdie. He didn't know why he did was he did. Only that it was done. He knew what he had done was wrong and he longed to tell his birdie how sorry he was. As he looked at the picture his heart broke even more. His birdie was smiling and as happy as a lark. Clutching the polar bear his mother had given to him as a child before she died. That same bear was sitting next to him on the arm of the chair. Tear stained and wrinkled from the nights he cried and held the thing to him. Finally he stood and stomped up to his unused study. He flung the cabinet doors open and pulled out a drawer. There sitting as innocent as a feather lay the only thing his father had ever given him was a german Astra 600. He picked it up and held it lightly in his hand. He checked to see if it was loaded, it was. He held it to his head and the final thought he had was. _"I'm sorry mein birdie"_

_"He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger_

_And finally drank away his memory_

_Life is short, but this time it was bigger_

_Than the strength he had to get up off his knees_

_We found him with his face down in the pillow_

_Clinging to his picture for dear life_

_We laid him next to him beneath the willow_

_While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby"_

Once again there was a funeral in the field. They laid him down next to matthew. Gilbert's brother Ludwig heard the shot but was too late to help. Now it was Ludwig's turn to cry. Which was new to everyone but his lover Feliciano, who knew the real ludwig. Though it had been years since the initial betrayel, if you listend carefully you'd hear the laughter of two lovers dancing through the tall grass. And if you looked and watched closely you'd see two people standing below the willow smiling and holding hands.


End file.
